I cannot love but one
by wild wolf free17
Summary: He'd thought that Arthur, when he returned, would be as vibrant, as glorious, that figure of legend even he believes in now, a thousand years after he sent his king to the water.
1. Chapter 1

Title: I cannot love but one

Disclaimer: only Arthur and Merlin aren't mine; title from Lord Byron

Warnings: references to bad things happening to children

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Point of view: third

Wordcount: WIP

Prompt: Merlin, Arthur Pendragon/Merlin, _We were like gods at the dawning of the world, and our joy was so bright we could see nothing else but the other._

* * *

He'd thought that Arthur, when he returned, would be as vibrant, as glorious, that figure of legend even he believes in now, a thousand years after he sent his king to the water.

But Arthur is young, now, is foolish as only the young can be, as he'd forgotten Arthur was when they met, that brash prince who acted so sure of himself, before Merlin learned to read the truth in the set of his shoulders, in the twist of his lips.

This boy is someone he doesn't know, yet. This boy, barely fifteen and taking care of himself in the streets of London, leader of a small gang of lost children like himself. This boy, with a glare so familiar it hurts. _Oh, my king,_ he thinks. It hurts so much more than he thought it could.

This isn't someone he knows, yet. He wonders, briefly, if the others will return, as well, or if it'll only be the two of them, facing some calamity he can't imagine, staring into fierce brown eyes and seeing the man this boy will be, if he's given the chance to grow.

He's believed for a thousand years that Arthur would return grown, a king of men, a legend walking the world again. But this boy waits until the last of his little gang disappear down the alleyway, and then he turns on his heels to follow.

 _My king,_ Merlin thinks, watching him go.

This boy has Arthur's soul, but he is not Arthur. Arthur was a prince raised to be a king, raised a warrior, raised in a world that no longer exists. And perhaps, then, he doesn't need the Merlin that has been mourning and pining and hoping for a thousand years. To become a hero in this world, he needs Merlin to be someone else.

Merlin is, as he always been, the most powerful being in the world. He cannot, _will_ not, remove his magic, or all the skills he has learned over the years. What he _can_ do is remove a thousand years of memories.

.

"Billy!" Moira yells, tumbling into their fortress, her brother and sister just behind her. "Billy, there's a boy out there. Think 'e's hurt."

"Frankie," Billy calls to his second, a solemn girl who terrifies him sometimes, "keep watch while I check it out."

She nods, her dark hair falling in front of her eyes. She flicks it out of her face, expression annoyed, but he hasn't suggested she cut it since that first time, when she nearly thrashed him for it. If she had better people skills, he knows, she'd be in charge instead of him.

"See, 'e's there," Moira tries to whisper, her brother bouncing beside her.

There is a boy outside, huddled against the far wall. It's hard to tell his age or size, or if he's injured.

Billy won't realize for years why something that's always been unsettled in him settles as the boy raises his head, eyes going straight for Billy.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: I cannot love but one

Disclaimer: only Arthur and Merlin aren't mine; title from Lord Byron

Warnings: references to bad things happening to children

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Point of view: third

Wordcount: WIP

Prompt: any, any/any, there's death, rebirth and another meeting

* * *

Johnny doesn't remember anything about his life, which freaks Billy out when he thinks about it too much. But he knows how to walk and talk and pickpocket and pick locks and sneak into places without getting caught and drive and use the phone and computers, and basically, he's the biggest gift Billy's ever been given, and even though Frankie says they should be more careful with the new boy (because what if he's a trick?), Billy embraces Johnny wholeheartedly and lets him join the gang.

And then comes the day one of the local pimps tries to kidnap Moira so he can put her to work, while she and Billy are making a food run, and Billy fights him off while Moira flees as fast as she can, and the wanker shoves a knife into Billy's stomach.

Billy is mostly sure he actually dies. But then he's coughing himself awake, and Johnny is between him and the pimp, shouting something in some weird language, and—

He screams when lightning strikes the man who just stabbed him, curling up in shock and fear, and Johnny is there, wrapping around him, crying.

Johnny isn't sure how old he is, but he looks about Tomas' age, and Tomas is twelve. He hasn't had nearly enough time to learn everything he knows, but even Frankie stops questioning him when he guides Billy into their hideout, and stitches up the wound (which isn't nearly as bad as it was, impossibly), and orders Billy to rest.

Billy dreams about dragons, and swords, and a lanky man who could do magic. He doesn't remember in the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: I cannot love but one

Disclaimer: only Arthur and Merlin aren't mine; title from Lord Byron

Warnings: references to bad things happening to children

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Point of view: third

Wordcount: WIP

Prompt: Merlin (BBC), Arthur/Merlin, the man who has the loyalty of a hurricane

* * *

Somehow, their luck seems to turn when Johnny joins the gang. The roof of their hideout stops leaking, and the coppers stop almost catching Greg (their slowest, worst pickpocket), and there is always enough food scavenged, enough for even Billy to feel comfortable with seconds.

Frankie's comments stop being veiled barbs, and when the littles ask for a story, Johnny talks about a kingdom of magic. He confesses to Billy, while they're keeping watch one night, that all he ever dreams about is that kingdom, and the prat of a prince. He doesn't remember his parents or where he was before Moira found him in that alley, but he can name every person in the dream.

They don't talk about the lightning Johnny couldn't have possibly called down, or the day Johnny somehow leapt an entire block to pull Teresa out of the road; none of the gang mention it, even Frankie, but they all know there's something special about Johnny.

But months and months pass, and they finally have enough food, and extra blankets, and clothes that fit through every growth spurt, and they're even able to stockpile money. Billy isn't sure what to do with all the surplus, but some of them want to go to school, and some of them want an actual house, and Frankie talks about maybe publishing some of her scribbles. All Billy has ever wanted is to keep them safe, these dozen children who follow him and trust him.

"Whatever you want," Johnny tells him. He has no idea how he earned Johnny's loyalty, what he did that makes Johnny stay with him.

"Okay," he breathes out. "Let's have a meeting. Round up everyone."

Johnny smiles at him, nodding so regally it almost seems like a bow—but that's silly. Just another odd thing about this boy they'll never talk about.


End file.
